Weathering the Storm
by SineTimore
Summary: A Memorial Day related 5x24 post-ep. Formerly a one-shot, now a completed two-shot.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** No resemblance to talented writers intended.

**AN:** Happy Memorial Day, America. This is what comes of beer & Skittles. Thanks, as always, to the kind souls who send me lovely and kind words and to those who don't wish to. There should be more thanks in the world.

* * *

_**Weathering the Storm**_

It was almost as though it was cursed somehow.

Memorial Day used to be a family affair, a week of fun to commemorate a new summer, a celebration. Three years ago that had all changed. His family had ditched him for more promising opportunities, the woman he loved (granted, secretly so) had chosen to enjoy the holiday at another man's beach house, and he'd himself spent far more than a week in far less than celebratory fashion with his ex- a consolation prize, at best. Two years ago, his love no longer a secret, he'd been too preoccupied with hopes of her knocking on his door, sending him an email, hell, calling him just to let him know that she was alive and well, to even notice the holiday. She'd done none of those things. But then there was last year. Last year was fireworks, metaphorically speaking as they couldn't pull themselves away from each other long enough to actually _go_ anywhere. It was American flag boxer shorts, a Chinese takeout carpet picnic, S'mores by the fireplace, and laughing- so much laughing. Memorial Day had finally made amends. It had made him forget what had come before. Until now.

"Are you really sure about this, Richard?" Martha asked with concern dripping from each syllable. "Is now really the best time for you to be alone? And in that enormous house, of all places?" She glanced down at the more-than-weekend-full bag he'd dropped on the floor and shook her head in disapproving mother fashion.

"Yes, Mother, for the last time, I am _really_ sure," he seethed, punctuating the adverb. "I don't want to be here thinking about how Kate's not here. The fresh air and the quiet will do me some good, I think." Truth was, he had no idea what would do him any good right now. All he knew was that he couldn't have what he wanted and the next best thing seemed to be being in a place that didn't involve other people watching him brood about it. "Alexis' program has you listed as a backup in case of an emergency so keep your phone with you, okay? Mine usually works out at the house but every once in a while, if there's a storm or something, I can lose service." He grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator for the road and kissed his mother on the cheek. When she asked him when he'd be back, she heard only "soon" as he walked out the door and closed it firmly behind him.

* * *

He'd loved the house from the moment he set foot in it, before all of the decorating and redecorating and renovating. He'd loved it. He still did. It just felt different now. The last time he was there, Kate was there with him. He could almost still smell her scent, see her cooking in the kitchen, feel her warmth in his bed. She wasn't there though. In fact, not only was she not there, she was hours farther away, a new job farther away, a "not now" answer to a marriage proposal farther away. Maybe his mother was right. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

* * *

He'd hardly slept at all last night, his utterly ineffective coffee reminded him of that with each sip, and now that he was actually at the house, he had no idea what to do with himself. The pool was too cold, the midday sun too hot, and the images in his mind of Kate enjoying herself at some holiday barbeque with her new team too profuse. He tried writing but failed for obvious absent-muse reasons. He tried watching television but grew frustrated as every show seemed to be some sort of crime procedural. He tried exercising but his body could only take so much given its exhaustion.

The shower felt good. It had been the highlight of his day, sad for a man of his means and talents, he knew. He emerged from the bedroom dressed comfortably, scented freshly, and entirely ravenous. He couldn't recall the last thing he'd eaten though he'd stopped before his arrival to purchase more food than one man could possibly need for a short stay. He opened the wine first because he figured he'd probably need it the most. It was the hardest for him at night. Her not being there.

He was one glass in as thunder rolled outside. His phone rang on the counter and it startled him as he found himself lost in the flashes of lightning over the water. His insides jumped every time it rang since Kate had gone, hoping that it would be her. It had been once. He hadn't answered. He listened often to the message she'd left. She loved him, she'd said, and she hoped to see him very soon. "Is everything alright, Mother?" he answered without any formal salutation.

"I called to ask you the very same thing, my boy," she replied. "Are you eating enough? Wearing sunscreen?"

"Seriously?" he huffed. "I'm just fine. Also, to clarify, I'm not seven so you don't have to worry about me or check up on me."

"Don't you take that tone with me, Richard Alexander Rodgers. I am still your mother and I will check up on you as often as I damn well please, got it?"

He paused for a moment. Another clap of thunder- closer now. The rain changed direction and beat harshly against the windows. "I'm- I'm sorry, Mother. Look, I need to go. Dinner is almost ready here (his wine glass was nearly empty) and I need to make sure the doors are shut because the rain is coming down in buckets. I'll call you tomorrow, okay? Goodnight." He slid the phone gently across the counter and reached for the bottle.

His earlier craving for food had dissipated but he was still sober enough to realize that he really should eat something. He flipped open cupboards and opened drawers but nothing interested him enough to make much effort. The storm wasn't letting up and all he wanted to sit in the dark and watch it pass by. He ran a pot of water for pasta and set it on the stove to boil. He turned off the lights that were on around him and moved to the large window nearby and he watched and listened and felt. It was all around him and it was in him. He wanted it all to pass, but it lingered.

Between the next flash of lightning and the thunder that quickly followed, he heard it. His phone rang again and brought him out of his moment. He marched angrily towards where he'd left it on the counter, knocking his shoeless toe against a chair along the way. He'd had the house for years but had somehow, in the dark, in his state, forgotten it was there. The expletive he let out could have been directed at either, the chair or the phone. He felt equal loathing for both. Honestly, he just told his mother that he was fine. Why was she…but it wasn't his mother. It was Kate.

It went to his voicemail. He hadn't gotten to it in time- or, he had but he'd suddenly forgotten how a phone works, that one actually had to answer it in order to speak with the person on the other end. Free from the pressure of the ringing, he dialed in to his messages to hear her voice. He heard nothing but a click. Sadness immediately took over his body. He wasn't sure what he'd been feeling not three minutes ago but it was nothing compared to what he felt in that instant. It seemed that she didn't know what to say now either. He wanted so much to hear her voice again. Her new Kate voice. Her it's-been-weeks voice. Her I-love-it-here voice. He didn't care. The pot of water boiled on the stove and the rain continued to pour down around him as he pulled up his contact list and clicked on her name. He stared at the photo and it made him feel instantly warm. She always held that power over him. His phone dialed the number and he waited. He'd promised that he'd always wait for her.

"Castle?" he heard her say, and he felt the tears start to form in his eyes. "I just called but I didn't know- I don't know what to say. I just really wanted to hear your voice tonight." When he didn't respond, she tried again. "Castle? Say something, please. I want to hea-"

"God, I miss you so much," he interrupted. "There aren't enough words in this language for me to express to you just how much I miss you, so instead I've said none of them and I hate myself for it." The loudest rumble of thunder yet struck at that moment. It seemed to echo in his ear and it confounded him. Storms messed with his phone out here, he then remembered. That must be it. "Kate, if I lose you, it's because-"

"Because of the storm, Castle, I know."

His brow furrowed in confusion. "How did you know what I was going to say?"

"You haven't lost me, Castle. Come and open the door."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** See chapter 1.

**AN:** I felt content with this as a one-shot after I'd finished it. Some of you asked for a bit more so I offer you this. Thank you, as always, for your kindnesses.

* * *

_but soon_

_the time _

_will come_

_I know what I put you through_

_the time_

_will run_

_away from us like time it will do_

**The Cars**

* * *

Chapter 2

He took two steps forward instantly, his body having seemingly reacted to her request to come and open the door entirely on its own. He had given no conscious instruction to his legs. His brain hadn't even begun to yet process what she had said, let alone form and execute a plan of action. Lightning lit up the room, the only source of illumination aside from the blue glow of the stove's gas ring. "Kate" dropped from his mouth as a question, or as a statement, he wasn't entirely certain which, as he extinguished the flame under the suddenly superfluous pot of water with a turn of a knob. "Look, I haven't slept or eaten and I've consumed a bit of wine so if this is some sort of hallucination, I-"

"Castle!" she barked, the rest of his thought cut short. "While I did travel all this way to hear your voice, I had hoped that the effort might warrant better than a phone conversation at your front door, or _to_ your front door, as the case may be. Open-the-door!" The silence that followed unnerved her and the subsequent click of the lock caused her heart to race in her chest. The large white door crept open in agonizingly slow fashion, as though he still remained unconvinced of her actual presence outside of his home. As he stepped into the doorframe, the sight of her overwhelmed him, well, what he could see of her in the brief flashes gifted by nature. He extended his hand to her, his drowsy mind flashing back to a day not so long ago when he'd rested on one knee and done the very same. There on his porch, however, she agreed to take it and he drew her inside.

Her slick hand dripped with rainwater, so he grasped it with extra might. At least, that's what he told himself; the true reason- that he wanted to keep her there with him forever- too absurd to admit if asked. "Why is it so dark in here, Castle?" she inquired, as they moved into the kitchen and back towards the comfort of his wine. He most definitely needed more wine. "I saw a light on upstairs, so I know the storm didn't knock out the power." Cops notice everything, he thought.

He reached across the counter for the bottle and replenished his glass. "I, um…can I get you a drink? Some wine, maybe?" He felt like a fool. Weeks without her, her now here in his kitchen, and _that _was the only thing he could come up with. Brilliant. Without awaiting her answer, he turned and walked to the shelf to pull down another glass. He hesitated there, his hand on the cabinet's cold metal hardware, and dropped his head. "God, you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he murmured in subdued tone before carrying out his task and crossing back towards her. Maybe she hadn't heard. Maybe just as well.

But she had heard him.

She took the few steps necessary to close the gap between them. Manageable distances first, she thought to herself. "Hard to see much of anything at all in here, Castle," she quipped in hope of putting him at ease. "How about this?" she suggested, as she reached out brushed her hand down his exposed arm. "Why don't you turn on a light and grab me a towel so I can dry off a bit and I'll pour us some wine...or some more wine in your case."

He agreed, with an added apology for not having offered her a towel sooner. Honestly, he had no idea where his head was and that was the very least of the apologies that she deserved. He returned moments later, having taken one or two on his own to breathe, towel in hand, and stepped up behind her. He wrapped the soft Egyptian cotton around her upper body and she pivoted to face him. He could see the tears pooled in her eyes and the paths those previous had taken down her cheeks. At the whisper of his name on her breath, he pulled her against him with his weary arms and held her as tightly as they would allow. "How did you know where to find me, Kate? How did this happen?" he asked, as he brought his chin to rest against her damp hair. They always fit together so perfectly.

"I called the loft and Martha told me. But, don't be angry with her, okay? She was concerned and I understand why. You look awful, Castle."

"Well, a man can't hear _that_ enough from the woman he loves, can he?" he replied sarcastically, though he was aware of just how accurate her statement was.

Her eyes met his with a grin. "So, you still love me then, huh?"

He released her from his grip, his arms now jelly-like in their fatigue. "Come with me," he instructed, as he led her to the sofa nearby. "Now, sit." He sat down after she'd gotten settled and he adjusted his position to face her. "Do you remember when we were here together the first time? How excited we were, the anticipation of just being together, the freedom we felt, how much we hated it when we had to leave?"

"Of course I remember, Castle," she answered, her voice soft with affection.

"That's what my love for you feels like, Kate, what it _has_ felt like, what it will _always _feel like- excitement, anticipation, freedom and wanting all of that never to end. Ever." He looked down and brushed away a piece of lint on his shorts, one that didn't actually exist. He merely needed the time to swallow the lump in his throat in order to continue. "When you left for D.C., Kate," he began again without looking back up, "and I started to think about how I had failed to be enough to keep you here, I felt so ashamed. Deep inside me, I knew that your decision was about you and not about me or about us, but I couldn't keep my insecurities from blinding me to that reality. And, by the time I'd managed to push those away and to really reflect on everything that had happened, it just felt like I'd waited too long. I had no idea how to make it right again, what to say." A tear fell onto the khaki cotton fabric below and she placed her fingers gently over the spot.

"Rick- Rick, look at me." The eyes she saw were filled with such sadness. "This wasn't yours to fix. You weren't alone in this, _aren't_ alone in this. When things get difficult, I tend to fall inward and I did that again with this job, with the status of our relationship. I didn't want to shut you out. I was alone for a long time, Castle, and I got very used to making it through things that way. Breaking out of that zone of comfort, out of those habits, is still something that I struggle with. Obviously. I lied to you and I left and I hid in the job, as I've done in the past. I guess, like you, I felt like I just didn't know how to fix it, Castle." She paused and they sat together in silence, his fingers tracing circles on her hand at rest against his thigh. "And about what you asked me, Castle…"

"We don't need to talk about that," he interjected. "It's fine. I understand. It wasn't right and I'm sorry." He shook his head at his own disapproval.

"Please don't be sorry, Castle. What I told you that day, when you asked me, was the truth. I meant it then and I mean it now, even after this time apart. It was the right question, Castle, just not at the right time. I think that you knew that but you were scared. I was scared too. I'm still scared, if I'm being really honest with myself. But, Castle," she said, raising her palm to his cheek, "I believe that we can make this situation, us, work. But it is going to be that- work. No more taking anything for granted, hiding, avoiding or we won't have a chance and I want a chance. I came here to tell you that I want this, you, us, and that I need for this to be my safe place if you're willing to be in it with me."

He leaned into her touch and closed his eyes but he felt more awake than he had since she'd left weeks ago. "Thank you for coming to find me, Kate," he whispered, as he moved in to rest his forehead against hers.

"I'd like to believe that we've both been found, Castle."


End file.
